Little Voice
by Coru
Summary: Surprises and danger lie ahead for Captain Jack Sparrow...many in the form of a little girl that looks too much like a certain Pirate King. Complete now! Sequel in works...
1. Chapter 1

Title: Little Voice

Author: Coru

Summary: Surprises and danger lie ahead for Captain Jack Sparrow...many in the form of a little girl that looks too much like a certain Pirate King.

Disclaimer: The pirates belong to Disney, the story belongs to me...

AN: Abby is very firmly mentally cast as Abigail Breslin, circa 2003 (the signs/raising helen era). And while I do know that the 'jack's got a daughter' thing has been done TO DEATH, but somewhere in my mind Abby was born and I had to write her out. It won't be like most of them, I promise.

**Chapter 1: **

If there was one ship in the great wide ocean which Captain Jack Sparrow had never intended to see again, the Flying Dutchman was not quite it, but it certainly fell into the very top five.

He had actually rather hoped he would someday run into the boy on one of his journeys, but, also knowing that not only was said boy was carting around a bunch of dead-ish souls many of which he was likely to have killed himself, but also being aware a few very personal problems between them, particularly in mutual regard for a woman who mutually regarded them, there was also a good bit of hope that he never saw bow or stern of that blasted ugly ship again.

Which was probably why, when he saw said ship, he immediately hid and told his crew to ignore the ship and hope it went away – and on the off chance that didn't work, to tell any and all crew members that Jack had gone missing.

The heavy sound of wet boots slapping against the wooden deck slowly reached his ears. He ignored it. He didn't want to look, he preferred hiding where he was. He took a sip of rum and remained as still as he could laying back beneath a couple barrels of rum – preferring to appear passed out, in case he were to be discovered.

He peeked one eye open nervously, and found himself staring into an unexpected face. Not that of young William, or any of his crew for certain. A grave little face with too-large eyes and a mouth that _should_ be smiling. He grinned weakly and winked at her. She continued to stare.

Suddenly she was picked up, and Jack was rather annoyed to see instead the countenance of the Flying Dutchman's captain. Jack made a good show of rousing himself from a drunken stupor.

"Whelp! Er...Whilp...Will! Hello Willie boy!" Jack pushed himself from behind the barrels and staggered across the deck. "To what do I owe the very fine pleasure of your hopefully brief company?"

"I'm not staying long," Will replied, following him. "I have to go to England, then chase after a pirate lord."

"Well if you want one of those I am of course far too busy, but I do believe you left one that belongs to you on an island somewheres not here," Jack began plucking at things trying to look busy. "Best of luck though,"

"She's not there anymore. Thanks to this particular Pirate Lord," Will's voice was very intense and demanded attention. Jack ignored him. "Capitaine Chevalle is dead. His replacement is the one I'm after - Captain Matthias Richter."

"Richter, eh?" He turned suddenly, his braids swinging out. His eyes were steady as they met Will's. "That's a very bad plan mate, not too keen on survivors is old Richter."

"Yes, and he's keen on punishing you for some crime you committed against him-" Will was interrupted in his tirade by Jack simply not caring.

"Well he's been that for years and it hasn't harmed me yet," Jack turned away again, sashaying across the deck as swiftly as he could without giving the actual appearance of running away. Being as it was of course a ship, and he had nowhere to go, the venture ended quickly.

"Jack! Will you stop and listen?!" Will grabbed him by the arm. "He's trying to punish you so he's going through the people close to you – that's why I've got to take my sons to England to protect him, and that is why I'm dropping _her_" he gestured to the young girl now, who had been watching them the whole while with her solemn grey eyes, "with you!"

Jack reeled. "Now mate, much as I appreciate you wanting me to raise your little spawns, I'm afraid the_ Pearl_ is no place for a girl," he looked at her and made a face. "Especially that one, it scares me a little."

"Jack!" Will shook him. "You're not listening! He's decided he will punish you, and he's got Elizabeth!"

THAT got Jack's attention. It got his undivided attention in fact, and suddenly his drunken swagger was gone. "Taken Mrs. Turner, eh?" There was more than a touch of bitterness in his voice, all amusement vanishing.

Will's eyes darkened with anger. "Look Jack," his voice had deepened a bit. "I know what there is and has been between you and my wife. I know you came to the island for Elizabeth and I further know that is why you will take Abby!" He gestured furiously in the direction he had last seen the child.

Had either man been paying the least attention to said little girl, they would have noticed just what affect the topic was having on her. Her too-large eyes were screwed shut, and she held a ragged stuffed bunny with all the might of her chubby arms.

"Lost me mate," Jack attempted to pretend ignorance.

Will's nostrils flared. "Allow me to introduce you then," he finally turned to said girl. "This is Abigail Margaretta Sparrow, Jack. She's five years old." She tightened her hold on the toy but otherwise did not move.

Jack, quite admirably, did not pass out. He did not sway or wobble as he stood and raked his eyes over the small creature he was being told to claim as his own. He saw nothing of himself in her, and that comforted him. She was terribly Elizabeth though, and that was more than a little bit worrisome.

Will stared at Jack, his expression dead serious. "She's your daughter Jack. Elizabeth's daughter. Whatever problems exist between myself and my wife, that doesn't change the fact that she is and always will be Elizabeth Swann. And I know you love her."

This set off an entirely different set of arguments from Captain Jack Sparrow – and a few very heated responses from Captain William Turner. It was to the advantage of Abigail Sparrow to ignore them both, and quietly walk back to the plank which led to the Flying Dutchman. There was a boy sitting on the deck of the other ship. He was young, only a few years older than the girl, and his attention was absolutely focused on watching every move his captain made.

She began to cross, one arm wrapped around her doll and the other's thumb firmly in her mouth. She wobbled a little, halfway across, and the plank rattled against the two ships.

William Turner III looked at his plank, then blanched when he spotted the girl. "Abby!" He lunged in her direction, steadying the plank and reaching across the breach. He grabbed her by the arms and dragged her across to the _Dutchman_. Almost instantly she was draped over his knee and his hand was raised against her. It stayed there, and William looked up into the khol-lined eyes of Captain Sparrow.

"I believe that girl belongs to me mate," Jack said, a note of warning in his voice. After a pause he released the boy's hand, but didn't relax his stance. His eyes strayed to the trembling and sobbing little girl on her brother's knee.

William set Abigail on her feet and stared the captain down. "I'm sorry Mr. Sparrow, but of the two of us I would say I know a good deal more about how to take care of Abby than you do. I've been there her whole life – where have you been?"

"It's _Captain_," Jack replied firmly, narrowing his eyes. "You're an awfully pompous little whelp. Must be a Turner," he dismissed him with that comment and turned back to Will. "So you'll be leaving the chit with me? Alright we've got an accord."

"No!" William leaned forward and held his sister's hand tight in his own. "Father, Abby belongs with me, not this stupid drunken pirate – clearly he can't be trusted with her! Just bring her with us to England!"

"She is not my responsibility!" Will's voice was tense and angry. "I won't waste one ounce of sweat for -"

"Well then," Jack cut him off, eyes trained on the little girl who was still quietly hiccoughing. "I guess we'll be off."

Young William grabbed the Captain's jacket and held fast. "If you're taking Abby you have to come listen first!"

Jack swayed a bit and looked at the elder William Turner. "Who is this brat?"

Will glared darkly at him. "Elizabeth's and my son," he gestured to his boy with a sudden anger. "I believe you've met him, when you were busy coercing my wife into an affair."

Jack quirked an eyebrow and threw his hands in the air. "Oh well now, was that how it was?" He began to circle the little family. "I appeared at the door and poor little Lizzie was helpless?" He let out a bark of laughter. "You have met her haven't you boy? Your bonny Missus was bored half out her wits mate. Begged me to take her with me on the _Pearl_ s'matter of fact," he looked at the boy. "Let's have a chat then."

Jack followed the child to a corner away from 'the whelp and the baby', and watched him twist his hands for a minute. Jack's lips twisted into something like a smile when he realized the problem – Lizzie must have told her son – Will's son – about him, about their adventures. The boy was nervous.

"Now what's so important lad?" Jack asked, not unkindly.

He looked up at the captain sharply, and his forehead wrinkled in displeasure. "Abby's special," he said finally. "Mum calls her sensitive. It jus' means...she gets hurt easy. And she -" he stopped for a moment, his face scrunching in a manner not unlike his sister. "She saw them take Mother. I wasn't there, I wouldn't have let them – well, I wasn't there." He took a couple deep breaths. "Abby ain't never been over-talkative, she's smart and learns quick but she don't talk much. And since she saw...whatever she saw, she ain't said a word. Barely makes a sound. She won't eat hardly nothin', just sits there. Like she's broken or something – and I don't wanna leave her but Pa won't bring her and he won't let me stay."

Jack let out a breath, bobbing his head in a thoughtful manner. "Looky here lad," he pointed to the _Black Pearl_, "that there is my ship. Filled up to the brim with pirates and thieves and all sorts of nasties. We'll likely run into a curse or two soon, or at the very least get into some very dangerous fights with people who want us very dead." He met William's eyes solemnly. "But I promise that while the girl is aboard my ship no harm will come to her. Indeed I further declare every intention of going after said little girl's dearly distressed damsel. Or dame perhaps."

William jumped up. "You're going after Mother?!" Upon this outburst, several members of the crew stopped and gaped.

Will stalked over to them, already removing his sword. "Elizabeth is mine to find! I will rescue her!"

Jack laughed a little. "How funny," he snickered a bit and began to walk around him. "Give a boy a ship for a few years he thinks he can out-pirate the pirates." He knelt down and picked up the girl, continuing to mutter to himself as he crossed the plank back to his own ship. He pushed the bit of wood off of the _Pearl_,and headed toward the his private cabin. "Next thing you know he'll be calling himself a Captain."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

**Aboard die**_** Süsse Liebe...**_

There was only blackness.

Her first thought was that she was blind. Her second, more accurate thought, was that she was in fact blind_folded_ which was much better, but still a situation she was pleased with. She was also, she discovered a moment later, gagged and bound rather tightly.

Needless to say, Elizabeth Turner was not happy with her situation at present.

"Waking up now eh?" A distinctly Austrian voice interrupted her thoughts. "Ja, ja, it's good. I figured it would be about now." The voice got closer to her ear, and she realized with no small amount of trepidation that she was on a bed, and the speaker was now lying beside her.

"I could remove the blindfold and gag," he said, his voice taking on a gentle lover-like tone. "But you would scream, ja? I don't like for women to scream, until there is good reason. You scream before I want and it ruins the suspense for when I try to make you scream." He was touching her hair softly, and she could feel his breath on her neck. "I will remove the gag and blindfold, but you must promise not to make any noises that will annoy me."

She could only nod her head dumbly. No matter what he said, the advantage of being able to see and speak was worth anything. She felt too helpless like this.

He reached behind her head and slowly untied the ropes that bound her into mute darkness. Abruptly she could see again, and he slowly removed the wads of cloth from her mouth. She blinked against the sudden light and tried to re-wet her mouth enough to speak. "Who are you?" she managed to croak. She tried to twist her head enough to see him, but he was firmly pressed against her back and she could not quite get a look.

"You don't remember?" He asked, snaking a hand around her waist. "I am your captor, my dear. You are about my ship, ja? Now I am your captain. Tomorrow, who knows?" He kissed the back of her neck and she shuddered in revulsion.

"You're not my captain," Elizabeth's voice was regaining strength. "I don't know who you are, but my husband is Lord of the Seven Seas, you cannot escape the Flying Dutchman's grasp."

"Ja, ja so I have heard." This didn't seem to stop his hands from wandering about her body. Elizabeth tried to resist her desire to buck him away. "Davy Jones was powerful eh? Ja I remember those days. A man who controlled the seas, very unwise to anger him. Yet...what has it been now? Eight years ja? Not one man cursed to sail under him, nor sent to the locker for his crimes. Perhaps, I think, he is not as strong as Davy Jones. And I know, eh? I know who will be the one who comes for you. The one who will beat even the Flying Dutchman."

Elizabeth's eyebrows drew together sharply. "I do not take your meaning," she replied, her voice low and angry. "Will shall come for me."

"Ja, ja I don't doubt it eh? But not even he can beat the fastest ship in the Caribbean," a chuckle followed that statement, and the malice it carried turned Elizabeth's blood to ice. "And when Jack Sparrow comes, then I will present to him your mangled corpse, and he will know what pain he has caused others."

She choked back a gasp. She was not afraid – she was a Pirate King, she would not fear some coward who kept a woman bound while he threatened her. "You are mistaken. Captain Sparrow will not come for me," the pain that such a statement would normally have caused was absent, in this particular situation. "He hates me."

"Ja, so I hear," his left hand was tracing lazy circles on the fabric covering her belly. "You are the first ever to break the heart of our mutual friend, eh? The only person for whom Jack Sparrow would risk his life, his lady-love ja?" Suddenly the mockery of an embrace in which he had held her was tight and painful. "He hates you, because he will love you until the day he dies. Which in turn is why he will come to save you – and why the day will come so soon."

He released her abruptly, and stood over her. She turned her head to glare at him, and found herself unable to do anything but stare. He had clearly been a handsome man once, strongly built and delicately featured, she was sure he would have broken many hearts – but the deep and angry red burns that covered the right half of his face destroyed the illusion. There was little hair on that side of his head, and his lip curled up unnaturally. The resulting image was horrifying and revolting. She turned away, hiding her face in the bed linens.

"Sleep well, Mrs. Turner," the Austrian said. With that he blew out the candle and was gone, leaving Elizabeth once again to the darkness.

**Somewhere in the Caribbean...**

Will Turner stood on the rail of the Flying Dutchman, a rope in his hand. Across the ocean, Jack Sparrow was busy ignoring him in favor of retiring to his bedchambers.

A shout across the quickly widening gap brought the pirate Captain up short. "What does Richter want from you Jack?" Will demanded, leaning toward the _Pearl_.

Jack mirrored Will's position on the rails. "I suppose," Jack replied thoughtfully. "I suppose he might want his wife and son back."

Will looked nauseated. "What?" He threw a small back across to the _Pearl,_ his eyes darkened with anger. "For a woman? What did you do Jack, sleep with her as well?"

"Oh no, not Claudia!" Jack laughed a bit at the idea. "Claudia and I were family, certainly not."

"Well then why not return them to him?" Will was getting angrier, the gap was widening and he had to shout to be heard now.

"I would if I could mate, but I can't!" Jack replied with a shout of his own.

"Why not? Would you let Elizabeth die to keep them from him?"

"I can't!" Jack shouted., swaying dangerously on the edge of the _Pearl. "_I can't give them back to him because I killed them!"

With that statement and a jaunty wave, Jack Sparrow turned away and sashayed back to where he had dropped his daughter, meeting her frightened gaze with the only slightly mad response hidden in his own chocolate stare. Her stance and expression did not change, but when he held out his hand she arranged her bunny in the crook of her elbow, stuck her thumb firmly in her mouth and accepted his guidance with her newly freed arm.

The suddenly frenzied yells of Will Turner sounded on deaf ears, as Jack retired to his bedchambers, his daughter's hand firmly in his.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Isla Del Aburrimiento, Caribbean – 8 years earlier**

The little cottage was, for lack of a better word, disgusting.

She could hardly be blamed for it, as she would so staunchly defend herself. How fine a house could a pregnant woman, or for that matter a woman with a small son, be expected to build on her own? At first it had been only a lean-to, a place to sleep until she found a better situation on her dear private island. There were people who would pay thousands of pounds to have what she had just now, and she would have traded all her pirate gold for a single solitary hot bath.

She sometimes thought, rather bitterly, that it might have occurred to her husband to send one of the ships back for her before he sailed off to the netherworld.

She hated the people who lived on the closest island. She had only her longboat, but it was not too long a venture to make, when she desperately needed supplies. But she hated them. She hated the smug way in which they lived their lives, not hating themselves or each other as she did. She hated when they looked at her with sympathy or pity – though she rather enjoyed when they looked at her with fear. She had earned ever ounce of fear and respect these pathetic people could give her.

Sometimes she felt rather guilty about these thoughts, as if she was being unreasonably cruel, even if only in her mind. She tended to disregard those emotions, she thought that perhaps she had gone a bit mad in her months alone. She thought, with some amusement, that now she was truly a match for Jack Sparrow.

The real reason she didn't allow herself guilt about her cruel thoughts – because she had heaped upon herself enough guilt to last a lifetime. '_Jack,' _just his name was enough to make her want to cry. She was undeserving of forgiveness or friendship, but oh how she longed to see black sails on the horizon. She loved the _Pearl _ and everyone aboard, they were the crew she felt loyal to in her heart – regardless of time spent as Captain of the _Empress_.

The Captain of the _Empress, _King of the Pirate Court, would be disgusted by the woman she had become. She could not say it was all bad of course...there was light. There was a bright, shining light in a dirty, grinning face. William Turner III, who could make her smile with the slightest gurgle or movement, and paralyze her with fear if she didn't hear him for even a moment. Liam, she called him. Her little boy, too small to do much more than babble wordlessly or wave his arms, but she loved him.

The fear she felt when she imagined losing him on the island was distinctly outweighed by the fear she had of losing him to the sea. She could so easily imagine him, growing up on this island, turning into a boy that looked too much like one she had fished out of the ocean so many years before – and then turning into a man, in whose eyes she would see a longing for freedom...and then who would be gone, lost to a life of sailing or, which she had to admit was far more likely, piracy.

She had spent many hours lashing her soul with her own guilt and fear in the months before she decided to do something about it. She knew would never be able to rest until it was finished – until she could make it right. Letters were written and received, plans were formed and began to be executed. She had made many enemies during her time at sea, but few stories had reached England, and she had by no means been friendless before. She would meet a ship sailing for England, captained by a man she loved dearly, accompanied by his wife. They would meet her, and assist her in every way they could. She was determined that her son would have more opportunities – something to look forward to in life beyond sailing the seas. She packed up the few things she had gathered on this godforsaken island, buried a softly thumping chest in an unmarked bit of sand under an unmarked dune on the wasteland that was her island, and set off for the port in her longboat.

**Tortuga, Four Months Later**

She clenched and unclenched her fists nervously. She hated this island, hated it with everything she had. It stank of rum and smoke and filth, all mixed with the salty air of the sea and sweat of unwashed men. It smelled like a pirate ship amplified, and she didn't need reminders of what she missed.

Elizabeth stared at her reflection in a window as she passed. She was darkly tanned and her hair was ragged in a long braid down her back. She could have passed for a cabin boy again, without even trying. She didn't like it, but made no move to correct it. Better, she thought, to let people see what they wished.

It was her third week in Tortuga, and she realized with some reluctance that it was entirely likely that she could be there some time longer. She wasn't simply looking for a crew to join up with – she could have left the day after her arrival is that was all she wanted. No, she needed her absolution. Forgiveness could only come from one man, and she could not accept it without earning it. Once again her eyes glued to the horizon, watching for a ship with black sails that once again she did not see.

Perhaps had she looked a little closer to home – such as, to the port itself, she would have noticed a ship very much meeting the description she searched for. Sadly, she did not look, and continued with a heavy heart into town to barter one of the glossy treasures Will had left her for another night's meal and lodging – and to once again argue against her needs for company in said lodgings.

She was oblivious as she stepped into the lodge that a man had noted her, a man who paused with a bottle of rum at his lips. She didn't notice the sudden quirk of his mouth and brow, nor the intrigued glint in his eyes. A coin flipped in the air, and the merchant behind him grabbed for it as Jack Sparrow followed Elizabeth Turner into a whorehouse.

He quickly arranged himself casually in a corner, unobtrusive and feigning absolute disinterest in everything the pub and brothel could offer. He watched her, amazed – and relieved – that none of the pirates responded to her as they would if they'd known her to be a woman. He couldn't believe they didn't see it, when every move seemed to give her away as Elizabeth Swann – no, scratch that, Turner. Well, he enjoyed not having to pick fights with brutes so much larger than himself, so he would simply be glad of the ignorance his peers seemed to enjoy wallowing in, and enjoy his ability to watch her argue with the mistress of the house.

He was further glad when he realized that if he had, in fact, been forced to approach Mrs. Turner – he winced at this name, even only in his thoughts – he would also have to approach the madame. This would be unpleasant because he happened to recognize said madame...he was rather surprised, Giselle had certainly gone up in life. Yes, that way almost certainly led to being slapped, and Jack did so dislike being slapped.

He grinned as Elizabeth was led up the back stairs, and took a long drink of rum. "Drink up me hearties, yo ho," he sang softly to himself, propping a boot up on the chair in front of him.

Elizabeth of course, was unaware of being observed. She was further unaware of it some time later as she returned from the room she'd been given to argue with the mistress about the presence – or more accurately, the lack thereof – of the hot bathwater for which she had previously paid.

Once a week she allowed herself this indulgence, and she was getting rather irate at this overblown brothel-mistress who was trying to weasel her way out actually providing _heated_ water. After a few minutes of successfully intimating what exactly the woman could expect if her end of the bargain was not met, Elizabeth was satisfied that she would soon have the heat she wished. The woman scurried off to arrange it, and Elizabeth ordered a bottle of rum to entertain herself until it was prepared.

Nearly an hour later, and with a smile of self-satisfaction, she locked the door to her small bedchamber and began unbuttoning her blouse. She could already feel the steam coming off the bath just inside the door.

"Need help love?"

Elizabeth felt her blood run cold, then hot again. She turned slowly, pursing her lips – whether in amusement or irritation she wasn't yet sure. She took in the sight of him lazing about on her bed, his coat tossed on her chair and his shirt lying open across his chest and decided it was something else entirely. "Jack," she said his name, a smile breaking out on her face. "You didn't let me undress, how gentlemanly of you."

"Don't go accusing me of that now darling," he pushed himself off her bed and approached her with a smile. "Now I find I must beg the question of why Elizabeth the Pirate King is pretending, once again, to be naught but a young sailor wasting his coin in Tortuga."

Elizabeth's plan had somehow not gone past getting here and finding Jack. She found herself quite unable to explain her plan – or even to come up with a reasonable sounding lie that would excuse her presence. "I knew you'd come through here," the words slipped out finally.

That brought him up short, he stared at her. "Need help again I take it?" He asked slowly, looking her up and down. "Got yourself in some trouble?" His voice had lost its jovial tones, sounding dark and threatening, coming from Jack Sparrow. Captain, she corrected her thoughts.

She stepped back, shaking her head. "No, I don't – well, not like that. I have to -" she swallowed hard. "I never told you Jack. I need to, before I can do anything, go on with my life or even just go through this fight for survival. I need to tell you – how sorry I am."

This time it was he who stepped away. "Ahh, then it's guilt." He picked up his coat and began to pull it on. "Needn't worry Mrs. Turner," she winced at the sound of her own name, and then wondered why. "You did right by yourself, I couldn't have asked for a better pirate."

She moved forward now, shaking her head. "No Jack," he stopped and looked at her, his eyes cold. "I'm not sorry I chained you. I can't be. I saved everyone's life then, and you know it."

"Aye, so you did lass," his shoulder dropped, and he slowly pulled his jacket on. The spark had left him as suddenly as it appeared. "So you did."

"What I'm sorry for," Elizabeth reached out and touched his arm, her eyes meeting his steadily for the first time since his arrival. "Is tricking you. I took advantage of your trust, and I can never escape that."

He patted her on the head, abruptly becoming more cheerful, almost as if he were amused at her. "Well you're not the first one love."

"Jack would you stop!" Elizabeth held tight to his arm. "I want your forgiveness, but I know I have to earn it. And – I have to deserve it. That's what I want Jack, a chance to redeem myself, to earn it. I want to sail aboard the _Pearl _until I earn it."

Jack leaned in a bit, twisting his mustache in his free hand. "And how would you propose going about earning it darling?" He leered at her, showing his gold teeth in a grin.

He was more than a bit surprised when she leaned in as well and pressed her lips to his, allowing herself for a moment to release the passion that had been building since she saw him on her bed. "Was that a good start?" She asked breathlessly, a moment later. She looked up into his eyes, waiting for a response.

He held her by the shoulders, staring at her intently. "I don't want a taste of you," he said quietly. "If you want to wait your life for William on that island tell me now. I'll not have a taste and then give up." He waited for an answer, but saw only confusion in her eyes. "It's all or nothing Lizzy."

Realization dawned and she nodded slowly. "I have to come back for him," she said softly. "In eight more years I have to be there, with him and you can't be. But after the day he'll be gone again, and so will I Jack. I won't spend eternity waiting for him."

"Where will you spend it?" Jack asked softly, pulling her closer.

She disentangled herself and stepped away, smiling. "Well," she said coyly, beginning again to unbutton her shirt. "I'd like to start in this bath."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Captains Quarters, **_**The Black Pearl**_**, present...**

He wasn't exactly sure what to do with this creature. The little thing that looked lost and frightened in his cabin. He sat on his bed and stared at her as gravely as she stared back. She had the biggest eyes he'd ever seen on a child her age, so big and clearly wounded in a way that no amount of stitching could fix.

He held out a hand to her, forcing himself for once to show genuine in his expression. "Come here love," he said quietly. "We must have an accord here, between you and ol' Jack."

She moved slowly, as if she thought he might attack at any moment. When she was within reaching distance he pulled her to his lap, and held her gently.

"You know who I am?"

She nodded, hugging her precious rabbit.

"Did she tell you who I am to you?" He didn't have to say who 'she' was and he knew it.

Again, she nodded. Her grip tightened. Jack set his mind then and there to find her a new doll the next time he came across a ship carrying such things.

"Well, then she told you more than she did me," he admitted reluctantly. "I would have met you before this, had I known."

She chewed her bottom lip, but nodded again.

"Listen lass," he continued. "You don't have to worry. Whatever happened, ol' Jack will take care of it, and of you. Them who took her, well, it'll be taken care of. Captain Jack Sparrow doesn't let go of things easy love, and I let her go too easy once before."

The round little face tilted, big eyes full of questions that could not be voiced. He smiled at her and picked her up again, turning to tuck her in the bed.

He softened his voice even further, stretching himself between the world and this little girl. "Would you like to hear a story?" he asked, adjusting the blanket about her.

She nodded gravely.

"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful goddess of the sea, who loved an ordinary sailor..." he began his tale and wove a tail of love and tragedy. Her eyes were closed before Davy Jones had even set off for the underworld.

He smiled a small, rare smile at the peaceful expression on the girl's face. "Abigail Margaretta eh?" He stroked her hair thoughtfully. "Not very piratey. Need a good pirate name lass," she let out of little whimper, the first noise he'd heard from her since her arrival. "Take that as agreement," he nodded to himself and let his head rest on the pillow. "Peg Sparrow...has a nice ring to it, me lass."

**Aboard **_**The Black Pearl**_**, two weeks later...**

She watched him, at all times she was aware of where he was, and he knew it too. It unnerved him, to be so staunchly observed, but he accepted it with grace. He was Captain Jack Sparrow after all.

When he had awoken the morning after his...surprises, he found himself lacking a little girl. For about thirty seconds, he felt an unreasonable panic deep in his chest, before he spotted said little girl sitting at his table, clutching his blanket in addition to her doll. '_Clearly_,' he had thought irreverently, 'she has developed an habit of _clinging._"

And it was true, she certainly clung with talent. As he walked about the ship making his rounds, one of his coattails was nearly always firmly grasped in one of her grubby fists, as she trod along beside him. Other than her desperate need to have a physical grasp on him, she rarely acknowledged his presence. She stared at the sea with a sailor's focus, as if it held all the secrets of life and perhaps the location of her lost mother.

When not attached to his hip, she sat by Gibbs, her eyes wider than ever as she listened to his stories. For his part the old sailor was ecstatic to have a captive audience – after he'd made his initial complaints of course.

"Powerful bad luck keepin' a fe-male aboard Cap'n," Gibbs had said fearfully. "Especially one as unnatural silent as that. Women folks should speak their mind, this one stares like she's readin' your very soul."

"Well I don't know as they _should_ speak but they do tend to do it nonetheless, I personally find the change in spirit rather refreshing." With that the topic was closed, and Gibbs kept any further opinions to himself – though no one missed the light that appeared in his eyes with a grave little face would appear at his knee, looking expectantly up at him.

Today, she stood at the rail, ignoring both captain and first mate in favor of a conversation of nods with her stuffed rabbit, and searching stares in the sea. Her dark eyebrows drew together, and her lips pursed in displeasure. Across the deck, Jack watched her, his expression somewhere between worry and amusement.

"Peg!" She turned when her name was called, but didn't move from her vantage point. The seas were calm, one could see for miles. Jack let his hand rest on the little girl's shoulder and followed her gaze to the horizon. She twisted and looked up at him, her small face pulling a frown.

Jack was no less than shocked when Cotton's parrot appeared on the rail beside her, cawing loudly. "All hands on deck!" It screeched, flapping its wings. "Man overboard!" Abigail reached up and smoothed its feathers with small deliberate motions, and it settled.

Jack tried not to think of the implications of this particular development. "Aye lass, we're headed after her now. We'll save your mother and she'll take you home."

She didn't acknowledge his response, instead she just looked back at the ocean. She pressed her face against the soft cotton belly of the rabbit, and Jack heard soft murmurings coming through the worn fabric. "Momma," was the only word he caught.

Jack turned and stalked back toward his cabin, finding himself suddenly in need of a very large bottle of rum and some space that did not have a grey-eyed creature that looked altogether too vulnerable for him. No, and he was certainly not going to think about what would happen if – WHEN – he rescued Mrs. Turner and had to go back to talking to people who talked back.

For a few brief moments as he walked along the rail he imagined what would happen if he were too late, if, when he reached the destination his compass pointed toward, he found nothing but a lifeless body and eyes that would never spark with anger or passion at him again. Or possibly worse...if he found her broken and lost from the torture, unable to comprehend that she was safe again. Unable to ever _be_ safe again.

He went completely rigid and for a moment thought his heart might stop with the fear of it, but he forced the idea from his mind, as he had so often in the past weeks, and continued to walk to his cabin. He knew that the bottle of rum would be gone in minutes, and he'd have to be drunk before he could safely tuck his Peggy into bed tonight.

**Shipwreck Cove, six years previous**

"He was restless," the old man's eyes met hers, and she felt a sharp tug at her from the sadness in them. "Never wanted to be in one place for long, couldn't stand it. I suppose I could be blamed for that and deserve it too."

She leaned over the table intently. "But what was he _like_?" She shouldn't have been asking, she knew it. He would be angry, but she was so desperate to understand. She wanted to break this coldness between them and this seemed a good way to find a way. "Was he frightened of anything, or brave always? What was his mother like?"

That was an easier topic, and the old sailor leaned back. "She was beautiful," he began the story as many have begun before. "Loveliest woman I ever laid me eyes on. A walking dichotomy was me lady Vianne d'Valois. Her mother called her Yaritza. Her father was a French royal, some title or another I never looked too close at. A prince she said once or twice. But it was her mother she took after. A shaman from the Americas, a native tribal woman versed in magicks. They say Jackie's a bit god-touched and that be where he got it. Old Talise blessed the boy at birth, and cursed him too. Generations on her side followed the sea, and where I had cursed m'self with it of me own volition, Jackie was cursed at birth."

A small portrait was somehow in her hands, and she let out a gasp. He hadn't lied about the beauty of his lady, she held herself as a royal, but her countenance was entirely exotic. Dark skin and slanted eyes, she looked as if she had been painted from a storybook, an image of how a native princess should look. Despite her beauty, Elizabeth's attention was immediately drawn elsewhere in the small painting. Though Vianne sat with perfect posture atop a velvet settee, at her feet sat a boy no more than four or five. He was intently focused on a toy ship, and Elizabeth felt her heart constrict. '_Jack._'

"Aye, the boy was destined for this life," Teague continued, as if he'd never stopped. "A father can't help but wish for better though, for his only son. The sea is no place to raise a child, and no child can be happy when it's left behind."

Elizabeth looked stricken, her thoughts wandering far away to England – then back to Shipwreck Cove, and her hand resting protectively against her still-flat belly. She wasn't so very worried – after all, who would touch the Pirate King?

**Aboard die**_** Süsse Liebe, **_**present...**

He was a madman. If she hadn't known that when she first woke, she knew it now. He was too cruel, too inhumane to be anything but completely mad.

He had informed her, quite calmly, that not only did he want to show her broken, tortured body to Jack Sparrow, he needed to make sure some of the marks healed – to show exactly how long he had kept her in pain. "I don't want Jack Sparrow thinking it was a quick death, ja?"

When she spat the word 'Captain' at his face, he backhanded her and they began their first 'session'.

So he started almost immediately. There were burns covering her arms where he had put out the cigars he lit at the end of every session and she ached perpetually from his brutal carnal appetite. He had taken her the first night she was conscious – had chained her to the bed and encouraged her to scream. He said it made it better...and so Elizabeth swore never to let him hear a sound from her. She had nearly bit off her tongue at times, but she refused to let him hear her scream.

She would not be broken, she had sworn it to herself.

Eventually she ceased to process the times between...she knew only pain. The few times she regained senses enough to react, she had only two thoughts, one for the man whom, as she was daily informed, was racing to her rescue...and his death; the other for two small children, neither with fathers to protect them. Her nights were tormented with visions of the death and pain her deceptions would cause...Jack's lifeless body, strung up beside the beaten remains of her children. She could survive any pain that Richter threw at her – but she would never survive losing any more of those she loved.

**Aboard the Black Pearl...**

Jack gently swept the loose strands away from Abby's forehead. Her hair was so long he could wrap it around his wrist several times without disturbing her, and he marveled at the softness of it. She was like a lamb, all softness and innocence.

He lay beside her again, his fingers gently wrapped around her small wrist, as if to assure himself, even in sleep, of the irreplaceable treasure he now found himself in possession of. He stroked her soft cheek with his free fingers, and fell asleep to the sound of his own voice as he told her one of his millions of stories. 'Someday,' he thought as he reached sleep, 'someday I will tell her one that is true.'

And Jack slept, confident that in the coming days he would rescue his bonny lass and come out victorious in the eyes of God.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**Shipwreck Cove,**** six years earlier...**

He never called her Elizabeth after she joined his crew. When she asked one day, he told the reason: Elizabeth Swann had been a spoiled governor's daughter, someone whom she'd left in Port Royal at the age of twenty. She rather agreed, and didn't mind the names he did call her. He had a dozen names for her, one for every mood he said.

On deck, when he was Captain Sparrow, she was Swann, a shipmate who could and would take commands like any other on the boat. She swabbed and tied ropes with the best of them, though she was rarely allowed to take the helm – and never allowed to cook, as she had proved dismally bad at both on early tries.

At night, alone in his cabin they would be tangled up in one another, legs wrapped around legs and waists, fingers in hair, he inside her and she touching everything that was him, and he would whisper "Beth" in her ear, reverent at times and commanding in others.

It was the quiet times she loved best though, when he stood with her on deck and taught her the stars, or pulled her close at his desk to show her how to read and later write maps. "Bess," he would call to her, and she would slide into his arms, leaning against the perfect of his chest that seemed designed to fit only her. She loved those moments, the sound of his voice as he caressed her name, the one she'd not allowed anyone to call her since her mother died.

Of course they fought however, always with as much passion as they loved. When she was angry, he called her Lizzie, always in his soothing, rational voice. When he was angry she was Mrs. Turner, and his voice was as coldly bitter as it had been when he spoke to Hector Barbossa.

She did not appreciate the references to the life she had abandoned, which was of course why he brought it up.

"Why are you here then?" Jack spread his arms out, looking around their room. "You're free to go. Personally I've never asked you to bind yourself into misery for me."

"He just asked me to be loyal Jack!" Elizabeth's voice was rough with anger. "And regardless of what he is or isn't now, the fact remains that he was my best friend for the better part of a decade, and that's a bond not easily disregarded. And that's completely ignoring that he _is_ my husband, because I think we can both accept that as a moot point by now -"

"Well allow me to un-moot the point dear lady," Jack interrupted her, none of his bluster of flourish present. "Return to your little island if you wish, or stay here in the cove. _I_ will be on my ship."

"Jack you are being unreasonable!" Elizabeth shoved his shoulder roughly. "Please stop and listen, I'm not leaving you nor returning to wait on Will. But I have to settle somewhere, eventually. I'm not a lifelong pirate like you are, even if I'm not there all the time I have to have somewhere – could you just listen?"

"Is this you earning forgiveness then?" He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. Her eyes went wide and she reeled as if he'd slapped her. "Lizzie -" any other moment and she would have been amused at how quickly his tone changed from furious to repentant.

She turned and walked out the door. He didn't follow her.

She wasn't sure where exactly she was headed, but the moment she arrived she knew it.

Captain Teague looked up from his guitar and pulled the chair beside him a little closer. "Down love," he clucked, and she wasn't sure if he was speaking to her or the cat that jumped off the seat a moment later. Regardless, she found herself in the chair, staring at her, more or less, father-in-law.

"I don't know what to do with him these days," she said quietly. "I feel like all we do is fight."

"He feels trapped ducks," the old sailor replied, plucking idly at a guitar string. "You're changing and he feels it, doesn't know what to do."

Elizabeth closed her eyes, fighting the tears she felt welling up inside. She had to be stronger than this – she _was_ stronger than this. Despite her best efforts however, the tears began to escape the small corners of her eyes, and she knew they would be drawing tracks in the dirt that always covered her face.

'He hasn't called me Beth in weeks,' she thought, and it was only when Teague replied that she realized she'd spoken aloud.

"And you don't know the whys and wherefores? You're confusing him lass," he took a long look at her. "You've not told him yet I take it?"

She looked down at her waist and chewed her lip. "Is it so obvious?"

"To a trained eye. To anyone not lookin', you just look like you're gaining a bit 'round the middle."

Elizabeth looked as if she found that rather insulting. "I have not -!" she cut herself off with a frown. "I'm afraid," she admitted after a long pause. "You told me before, the sea is no place for a child and – and I have to go get Liam soon, I can't leave him in England indefinitely. It's been just a year but it feels so much longer." She rubbed her eyes, ready to deny to her dying breath that she was crying. She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her cheek against them. "Will you tell me a story, Captain Teague?"

Suddenly there was a hand gently rubbing her back. "Aye lass, I will," he took a deep breath. "Once upon a time, there was an ungrateful fool from Ireland. He never seemed to know what he wanted in life, and couldn't hold onto a thing once he decided on it..."

"This story sounds familiar," she half-whispered, turning her face to look at the elderly captain.

Teague smirked a little to himself, but nodded. "Aye, that it does love, just a bit of a change in cast. One day, this boy you see, he happened upon a heavy-bellied ship crossing to France...and our little pirate couldn't help himself. The ship surrendered, and he caught the greatest treasure of all...a beautiful woman who craved adventure. For ten years she was his greatest companion, his wife and lady-love...she gave birth to three sons aboard his ship, two of them joining Davy Jones' locker within their first year. Well after she lost the second one she were different, tired and lonely in the eyes. She took to dotin' on the boy they'd got left, and spoiled him something awful. She told him about her people, who were touched by the gods if they could but learn to harness it. When her son grew up and left, she left too, leaving her foolish man alone with naught but the sea and his memories for company." He smoothed his hand over her back, feeling some of the tension leave her. He let out a soft, low chuckle, and continued. "Even after seeing the fine example his father had set before him, that fool's son got it in his head that he was special, nigh immortal. He held nothing closer to his heart than the sea, too much like his da, he risked things, never stopped to think about what he was doing past living the next day."

"And so he lived through a lot of things that had killed a lot better men than he," Jack's voice made her jump. He had appeared in the doorway sometime during Teague's story – and she knew somehow that the old captain had known from the moment his son approached. Sometimes they were so alike it frightened her.

Captain Teague removed his hat as he stood, and bowed low to her. "King Swann, goodnight." He winked at her and she smiled weakly back. With that, he turned and left – as always, acknowledging his son with barely a nod. It amazed her how he could speak so warmly of his family when in private, but the moment Jack appeared it was all coldness...

She watched Jack warily as he approached her. He leaned down toward her and she felt his breath on her neck.

"I'm sorry love," he whispered in her ear. He let his hands knead the back of her neck, his thumbs pressing into the single pressure point he knew always made her moan her approval. He kissed her shoulder softly. "We will find a way, somethin' to make it work darlin'."

"I want to get Liam," she confessed in a broken whisper. "I miss him so much Jack."

He pulled her to her feet and into his arms. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and held her tightly. "Lizzie Swann will have her cake and eat it too," he promised, rubbing her back through the soft cotton of her blouse as she . He dropped his chin to rest on her head as she snuggled into his arms. "We'll find a way love."

Elizabeth nodded, still fighting back the tears she didn't want him to see. In her mind's eye she suddenly saw the shackles she had once upon a time used to chain him to a condemned ship, and felt her heart constrict.

The shackles she was using to bind him now were an invisible sort, but somehow she felt that they were all the more damning.

She heard him whisper 'Beth' in her ear as the entered the cabin, and allowed herself to forget their problems for a little while.

**Aboard the **_**Black Pearl,**_** present...**

The little girl spoke now. He had broken her silence through cruelty, thoughtless and unintentional though it may have been. He honestly hadn't intended to cause her any pain, though he would hear echoes of her sobs in his ears for days after.

When it happened she was curled up on his bed, just waking from a nap. She had panicked, looking around the room with more energy than he had seen on her in all the days she'd spent with him. She met his eyes, hers round with fright – for a moment he marveled at how tiny she seemed, her stature made her seem even younger than the five years she held to her name.

He stood up and crossed the room, reaching for her automatically. "What's wrong Peg?" She climbed into his arms – with the most enthusiasm he'd seen from her yet. She clutched at him, beginning to sob. "Bad dream love? Oh come now, no pirate lass will cry over a bad dream..." he pushed her hair behind her ear and lower his voice to a near-whisper. "You can tell ol' Captain Jack, I won't let on."

She sobbed for a few more seconds and shook her head, holding out her arm. She gestured to the crook of her elbow and sobbed. "Miurne!" She finally let the name out.

Jack understood suddenly and a pained expression crossed his face. "Oh love, the bunny?" She nodded frantically. "I just had Cotton wash it darling," he explained gently, drying her tears with his thumb. "You got it close to some bad cargo, didn't want it getting lice on you. It'll dry soon and you'll have it back."

She let out a low keening sound and pressed her face against Jack's neck. "Miurne!" she repeated, her sobs raising in volume as she hugged him tightly. "Momma!" That cry tore at his heart, and she clutched at his shirt. She began to wail, a long wordless cry of fear and misery that brought Gibbs to his door in fright. Jack glared at him with enough fierceness in his eyes that the old sailor crossed himself and left the room post-haste.

"There lass...let it out," he rocked her gently, stroking her hair. "We'll take care of it...your Da won't let you down, we'll have her back." He wasn't sure when it had entered his mind to keep Elizabeth Swann-Turner with him once he found her, but he knew at that moment that he wasn't letting either of them go again. This...this was his family.

She slowly calmed, and allowed herself to be put back on the bed. She had tired herself out again, in just a few minutes, and was soon asleep again.

Jack sat at his chair and watched her, his eyes alert for any signs of further distress. He hated this feeling – he was terrified of that little creature and the power she held. He'd sworn years ago that no one would ever hold such a sway over him again – not since...

His eyes were drawn to the little drawer on his desk. There was a false bottom in it, and it held a single note with nine words in an elegant script. He didn't have to look at it, he had memorized it a long time ago...still he went to the desk and removed the sliding back panel. He couldn't see it in the dark, but nonetheless he stared at the wrinkled, half-ripped page and felt a pang he thought he'd pushed out of his heart many moons ago. He didn't need the light to see the sloping hand of his former lover, even without he felt the old pain of it – the shock, amazement, confusion! How had this happened, his bonny lass gone with nothing but a note? He couldn't understand – so he'd pushed it away, pretended to the best of his extensive abilities that no such person as Elizabeth Swann-Turner had ever existed. And still he kept the note...for nights when the ocean was a cold lover, and found himself alone with more bottles of rum than he could be expected to drink – but would regardless.

He hated himself for a fool, but he found himself praying to every god his heathen mother had taught him, that he could just find his Bess, even if only long enough for her to break his heart one more time. He didn't know why she'd left, but he couldn't survive knowing that she had gone to a place he couldn't follow – that someday he might look to his compass and find it pointing to something other than his Bess.

But oh how he wanted to hate her. To damn her and curse her name, to call her a harpy and heartless shrew.

Her cold words stared up at him, though he could scarcely make them out. The mocked him and his misery.

'_Jack,_

_I'm sorry. __Don't look for me._

_Yours, Bess _– this had been scratched out

_Elizabeth Turner'_


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Y'all are awesome, I can't say how much I appreciate the comments you've left re: this story...but I'm really enjoying it myself :-D

**Chapter 6**

**Aboard the **_**Wicked Wench**_**, 20 years earlier**

Wine. Wine was certainly the drink of the evening, the drink of celebration!

"The old fool!" She snickered, toasting herself in the air. "He'll never track me down! Did he think me an idiot Jacky?"

"Clearly darlin', clearly!" Jack found himself responding to her amusement with his own enthusiasm. "He should have known better than to think he could outsmart one of ours!"

"Oh but Jacky," her voice became soft and sweet. "I'm simply the daughter of misfortune, forced into this life by circumstances beyond my control."

He leaned over her and laughed in her face. "Yes, sweetness and innocence embodied you are, you heartless tart."

She threw a roll in his face. "John Marcus Teague Junior you will respect your elders!"

He hushed her, looking around the room in astute paranoia. "Jack Sparrow!" he hissed. "Captain!" he amended after a moment. "Can't let them be thinking I'm related to a pirate now can I?" He grinned at her.

The raven-haired beauty beside him touched his hand gently. "Jacky..."

He stood abruptly and offered his hand to the woman. "My dear lady, if you will honor me with a dance?"

"John Teague..." her voice held a note of warning.

"_Jack_!" he insisted again, his voice beginning to slur. "Darlin', sweetie, pumpkin nose, puddin' pie, and any names I elsewise want to call you, dance with me!"

She pursed her red lips and frowned from khol-lined eyes. "Jacky, sit down. Don't be foolish."

He pouted a bit but sat. "Pardon me, Mrs. Richter," he grumbled. "Thought you wanted to celebrate."

"Well I do Jacky," she grabbed his hand and held it tight in both of hers. "But look honey, I've got to talk to you. You are the first person Matthias will look to for finding me, and you have to help him – lead him away. I'll hide at Shipwreck Cove for a bit until he stops looking, but you have to be careful and distract him."

He nodded slowly. "Aye. Claudette...I can't take you there, you know that. That's pirate land, and I'm an honest sailor. If I set foot there me crew would know me as a pirate. I'll - I'm going to have enough problems after this...setback."

She nodded, her chocolate-colored eyes filled with regrets. "I'm so sorry sweetheart. I wish it could be like the old days, both of us young and aboard _L__e Moineau_, but it can't be anymore."

"No, no it can't," he let out a sigh, then grinned impishly. "But this means you don't get to slap me anymore, and without old Teague's interference I can smack you around if you get smart. I am Captain you know."

Her expression darkened and before Jack knew what had happened, his ears were ringing from a sound boxing. "Threatening to harm a woman! _Captain Sparrow_," she spat his moniker at him. "How dare you! And your _elder_! One who practically raised you!" She stood and went to his window with a scowl on her lovely face.

"Oh come now Claud...I was only foolin'." Jack rubbed his head with a wince. "You needn't have hit so hard either. S'not your job to keep me in line anymore." He shot a look to the cot in the corner, where her infant son lay surrounded by enough blankets to – hopefully – immobilize him and protect him. "You just worry about that thing over there."

She whirled on him, waving a finger under his nose. "Listen here John Teague or Captain Jack Sparrow or whatever else you call yourself, no matter who you are or what you do I am _always_ going to be your big sister and I am _not_ unwilling to wallop you to prove the point! Do not think that motherhood has changed my ability to box your ears as well!"

"Clearly," Jack sank back into his seat with an annoyed grunt. "Drop you off at the next port I will. Let Teague come and get you."

"And furthermore!" He started at her suddenly shrill tone. "What's with this 'Teague' nonsense? It's disrespectful Jack! He is Father or some form thereof – the only respectful way to speak to one's parent!"

"Well I wasn't speaking _to_ him was I?" Jack made at face at his sister and moved toward the door. "I'm going to go to the helm. Stay here and go to bed, unless you feel like being more entertaining and less like a...like a..._town_ girl."

Claudia threw another roll at the back of his head, and did not follow. "Little boys should not play with fire!" she shouted through the door. "Do not anger your big sister Jacky!"

He solidly ignored her. In fact, he turned and locked the door. "Good night Claudia!" he chirped through the cracks. "Enjoy your rest." He chuckled a bit as he walked away, swinging the keys on his finger and whistling.

When they were fired upon in the early morning, by an East India Company ship, Jack naturally forgot about everything except defending his precious ship. When he was captured and 'clapped in irons' as it were, then subsequently brought to face his 'judge, jury and executioner', he didn't actually process what was going on around him. His primary thought was 'well this is it then' and a vague idea that his father would be disappointed.

It was _after_ Cutler Beckett explained his intentions that Jack fully understood, that he saw they intended to sink his _Wicked Wench – _and all hands aboard who had not immediately turned against their captain. He had only a few moments to fight his shackles before a lucky cannon hit the powder store, and she went up in a blaze of glory.

It wasn't until his eyes lit on his cabin window that he remembered exactly whom had been locked and waiting inside. He thought he saw through the glass to a pair of eyes too much like his own for a split second, and then the upper deck of the ship was no more.

"Claudia," he said to himself, as if trying her name out for the first time. He paused, staring at the remnants of his beloved ship. "CLAUDIA!" His voice was snatched away in the salt wind, and he resisted a sudden and powerful urge to turn animalistic – scream, cry and fight those around him tooth-and-nail.

His ears were still ringing from a long-ago slap when Cutler Beckett bid him taken to the brig, where a hot fire and familiar brand awaited him.

He could think of nothing but a beautifully dark woman and her infant son, and the eyes he had seen through his own porthole.

Claudia Teague was gone, and to Jack, the world seemed a much smaller place.

**Aboard die**_** Süsse Liebe, **_**present...**

Her heart was in her throat. She thought idly that they _must _be able to hear it, it sounded like a drum beat in her ears.

She was very glad she had played the role of damsel in distress so very, very well. Three weeks with no real signs of fight, and Richter had finally got careless. When he retied her ropes, his knots slipped and he didn't notice.

Within an hour she had untied herself and slid out the window, sidling along a tiny ridge until she reached a small ledge to crouch and regain her strength. She had to keep moving though – she was sure he would discover that she was gone soon, and then the search would be on.

The sun was setting behind her, and in the dim light left she could see the two islands they had been circling for the last few days. They were both a long way off, more than a mile either way. She already felt weak – but she had no real choice.

With a deep breath, she braced herself and pushed against the ship, diving into the water. She held close to the stern for a few moments, waiting for any reaction from above. Hearing no rush of pounding footsteps, she began the long swim toward the closer of the two islands.

Three hours later she collapsed, exhausted, on the beach. She could have easily passed out then and there, allowing herself to slip into oblivion until her body could rest – but first she had to get into the woods, find a shaded hidden corner to curl up and pray she wasn't found in.

The next time she swam towards consciousness, she was sitting on the beach, held tightly in the arms of someone who felt altogether too familiar. 'Just a dream,' she thought sleepily. 'I'm back on the island...hmm some rum would be nice.'

A voice whispered in her ear, and she slowly came close enough to waking to understand it. "Open those eyes Bess, open those beautiful eyes and look at me...come on love, just once..."

He sounded so desperate, she decided to put forth the effort that his request would require. She opened her eyes and met the frantic stare of her pirate captain. "'Lo Jack," she mumbled.

He pulled her close and pressed his forehead to hers. "Lizzie love," he breathed her name as if it were a prayer – and she supposed, to him it was. "I've got you now," he told her softly. "And whatever they've done to you – they'll pay."

She blinked slowly at him, still trying to clear the cobwebs from her mind. "They?" It suddenly became quite obvious to her that she was _not_ dreaming, because in the many dreams she'd had of that night, she was not covered in cuts, bruises and burns in any of them. "Oh. No they," her voice was too scratchy, it hurt. "Just him." She reached up and stroked his beard with a small smile, which too quickly turned to a frown of confusion. "How did you find me?"

He pulled something from his pocket, and held it up in the moonlight. She saw his compass and frowned. "It's been useless to me for years love," he said quietly. "Never pointed at anything but you."

"Oh," she was far too tired to wrap her mind around that idea. She leaned her head on his chest and felt the black creeping up on her again.

"There love, just sleep," he stroked her hair gently. "Ol' Jack Sparrow has you,"

"Captain," Elizabeth mumbled. He kissed the top of her head. "Love you too," she slurred into his shirt.

He only held her tighter.

**Aboard the _Black Pearl_, the same night...**

The newest member of the crew was keeping watch. Technically, he was keeping watch along with Ragetti, but since the one-eyed crewman was currently indisposed – a blow to the head with a large stick will do that – the younger man was the only one actually conscious on the deck. They were running with only half a crew, the rest had gone to search the island for the captain's ex-lover.

The boy was not terribly impressed by their 'ruthless pirating', which somehow included saving damsels in distress and entertaining five year old girls who just stare at man until they know all his secrets.

It was that particular tidbit that had led to Ragetti's unfortunate and unexpected nap. Specifically, the fact that the boy on deck was currently carrying said little girl unconscious in his arms to the longboat he had previously lowered into the water. He wasn't worried about being caught, even if the girl woke up – who could hear a girl that didn't speak?

He grinned with some unnatural pride at his 'accomplishment' as he rowed toward die_Süsse Liebe_. He knew Richter would appreciate _this_ bargaining chip.

And back on the island, Jack Sparrow watched his former lover sleep, thinking to himself how glad he was that the nightmare was over.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**The Island, present...**

She moved away from him when she woke, and sat across their little clearing on a stump. She watched him warily, unsure as to what exactly he would say or do. "Where is the crew?" She asked suddenly. "Is the _Pearl_ nearby?"

"Floating off the coast somewhere," he gestured in the general direction of his ship. "And the crew I imagine is half there, and half on the other island looking for you. It was where we were headed you see, me compass seemed a bit undecided about that. Decided instead of searching one at a time I'd hop off and make haste at this'un, then join them across the way if I hadn't found you. I'm sure they'll be back soonish."

"How...did you even know to look for me?"

Jack shrugged and leaned back against the tree he'd claimed in the night. With the approach of daylight his confidence in her reaction had waned – now he watched her as cautiously as she watched him. "Your husband told me," his voice was laced with bitterness. "Showed up 'longside the _Pearl_, demanded I take _my daughter_," she took in a sharp breath and her stare turned wide-eyed. "And he ran off, taking your son to England, he said."

Elizabeth's breaths grew shallow. "Oh Jack – I – I'm –" he cut her off with a graceful wave of his hand.

"No need for that love," he shrugged. "I doubt there are many women in the world who would want the likes of me hangin' about their children. Can't say as I blame you, I wouldn't want me hangin' about. Were I not me of course. As it is I intend to hang about no matter what you say."

"It – it wasn't _that_," she shook her head and leaned forward a bit. "I know you would be good for her but – you were already starting to hate me and I couldn't -" her voice cracked a little. "You would have been bound to land, and...I needed to be in England where Liam could get a good education, you couldn't have been happy there. You're a _pirate _Jack!"

He stared at her, his eyes unblinking and level. "'S that what you told yourself at night?" He demanded after a few minutes. "Told yourself you did it for me, that leaving like that – _that_ was a good move?"

"Jack there was so much more to it than that!" Elizabeth's cry fell on deaf ears. He stood up and stalked over to her, towering over her. She wanted to look away, but she couldn't break the intense gaze he focused on her.

Suddenly he had jerked her to her feet and had pulled her to him. He pulled her into his arms and she screamed. He dropped her like she was on fire and jumped away, as frightened by her terror as she was.

Elizabeth lay on the ground, her breath coming in short gasps. She understood what Jack had been doing, he wasn't intending to hurt her – but the images that had flooded her mind at his roughness had nothing to do with the many tender memories she had of the man in front of her. "I'm sorry," she whispered brokenly. "I'm sorry Jack – I didn't mean to." They both knew she meant more than her scream.

Jack was on his knees a moment later, pulling her into his arms again – gently this time, with tenderness. "Bess," he breathed against her hair. "I'm sorry you were pulled into this, hurt because of me."

She shook her head and allowed herself to be petted. She could fight down the bile in her throat when he was gentle. "It's my fault Jack," she whispered. "I was stupid, I thought my title and connections would protect me in the pirate world, I guess I forgot about...well, _pirates_."

He didn't laugh. He tilted her chin up and forced her to meet his gaze. She held the stare and slowly felt her defenses slipping away. He'd always had that power over her...the power to make her feel completely vulnerable and completely protected, in one stare. "Stay with me," he demanded softly. "You, me and Peg, on the _Pearl._"

She blinked. "Peg?" Her voice took on a funny tone.

He nodded. "Small girl, 'bout five, doesn't talk much." She pushed herself up and frowned at him.

"_Peg_?!" Her voice hit an even stranger note. "Jack Sparrow what have you been calling my child?"

"Her pirate name lass," Jack grinned at her. "Abigail is not so fine a handle for a young piratess."

"Well good because she'll not be one! Lord in heaven Jack! She's _five_!" Elizabeth mad to stand up but Jack's arms pulled her back down. "And no child of mine shall be called _Peg_!"

"Well love, you call her what you want and I'll call her what I want," Jack reasoned agreeably. His voice turned serious again and he once again held her face in his hand. "But you will stay Lizzie-beth. I won't live without you again."

She felt her breath catch in her throat. "I'm on my way back to meet Will," she whispered. "It's been more than nine years, I can't have him not find me."

"He brought Peg to me," Jack reminded her, letting his thumb trace her jawline. "None too happily I'll admit...but he knew love. He's known all along when you were with me on the _Pearl_, and I don't imagine he thinks we were having a tea party."

"Oh god," Elizabeth's eyes filled with tears. "I never wanted to hurt him Jack," she brought her hands to her face. "I've broken our wedding vows!"

"You did that more than half a decade ago pet," he looked at her with some bemusement. "Or was it alright as long as dear William was unaware of this fact?"

"No!" She sat up and pulled away, shaking her head. "It was never _alright_ Jack! I became the worst sort of woman! Loose, not caring about society, having no morals, being -"

"Happy?" He ran his fingers over her thinly-clothed arms. "You made a mistake marrying the boy Lizzie," he said quietly. "It was always you and me darling, you knew it then and you know it now."

She gasped a little at the contact. She closed her eyes and leaned back into him. "I've missed you so much Jack."

"You'll stay with me," it was not a request. She opened her eyes and met his. "We'll find a way, it will work."

She nodded, hesitantly then. He watched her. He waited. She couldn't, and found herself presently lying atop him, her fingers attempting to re-learn the tangles of his hair and lines of his body, while her mouth became reacquainted with his. His hands reached under her shift, gliding over her torso with concentrated heat and she gasped against him. They slid to the back, caressing there all the skin he had not touched in so long. She jerked away, her back arching. "Not there!" She gasped again, for less pleasurable reasons, eyes now screwed shut with pain. "Please!"

He was quiet. He hadn't been oblivious to the bruises on her face, but he hadn't questioned her on it or undressed her in the night. He had maintained a bit of decency at least...but now he wanted to assess the damage. "Let me see," he asked softly, reaching to remove her shift. She backed away, shaking her head. "Lizzie," he spoke again, still gentle. "I will have to bandage whatever is wrong, I'll see eventually."

She let out a breath and nodded, turning away and pulling her shift over her head.

Jack, to his credit, didn't let loose a gasp or the many screaming curses he wanted to shout at Richter. He simply let his fingers lightly brush one of the better healed marks and let a soft "Bess," cross his lips. Her back was crisscrossed with ugly red lashes, some still oozing blood and others only lightly healing. The burns on her upper arms made his blood boil – this had all been done from pure cruelty, more than anything he could imagine a human wanting to do. "This is everything?" he asked after a moment, forcing his voice even. "Is there anything else?"

She stared resolutely at her feet, her chin resting on her collar. She refused to look at him, even as he moved in front of her.

"Lizzie?" he asked. "I have to know, to help."

"He..." she shook her head. "He – in – he..." She saw by the way Jack stiffened that he understood and screwed her eyes shut.

Jack touched her cheek gently then turned an about face. He moved to the edge of the beach and stared in the general direction he expected Richter's ship to be. The obscenities that were in his mind would never begin to cover his emotions, so he simply planned out his attack. Richter would die by his hand, he decided at that moment. He would see the man gasp and rattle his last breath. He took a few deep breaths to calm the fury he felt. He had the vague idea that if he didn't control it, it would swallow him up.

He returned to Elizabeth and helped her replace the shift, promising to bandage it all when they returned to the ship.

When they arrived at the ship a few hours later, their party was immediately doused in fear. Mr. Gibbs informed them that Abigail was not to be found, and one of their young crewmen was missing...as was the spare longboat.

Elizabeth had to be carried to Jack's cabin, while he made immediate plans to turn and chase them. 'Hector said I always run from a fight eh?' he thought to himself. 'Well Matthias, this time I'm bringing the fight to you mate.'

When they would tell the story in later years, they always blurred over the time between the revelation and their subsequent arrival, of a very sneaky nature, aboard die _Süsse Liebe_ late the following night, and if pressed would claim forgetfulness, or in Elizabeth's case, unconsciousness – and in Jack's case, mutter something about stubborn women who should have been recuperating, along with vague references to a long-past stay in Vienna. Elizabeth usually just smiled knowingly at this juncture and moved on with her part of the tale.

And regardless of the circumstances, sneak aboard ship they most certainly did – and if Jack spent most of the intervening time shooting dark looks at Elizabeth, neither of them mentioned it. They in fact managed to not only sneak aboard the ship, but also arrive – via what was to Elizabeth a very familiar ledge and window – in the captain's quarters.

The room was absolutely dark, and silent. Elizabeth's fingers slipped into Jack's hand and he squeezed them gently.

"I am glad you came so quickly," the voice made them both jump, and they shielded their eyes from the suddenly burning lamp. Richter sat at his desk, his feet propped up calmly. Their eyes were drawn to the blade he held in one hand. It gleamed in the lamplight, from its position, pressed at the base of the bound and gagged Abigail's throat. "Now we negotiate, ja?"

_AN: And now nothing new until after the weekend, 'cause I won't have my computer and thus will be unable to write until I get back. Enjoy!  
_


	8. Chapter 8

AN: Please excuse my French since I don't **actually** speak it, I'm using babel fish. Anyone who wants to correct my grammar please feel free, I would appreciate it!

A few French grammatical errors have been fixed, thanks to Ar-Zimraphel, but it's still being hammered out. Thanks for the help!

**Chapter 8**

**London, England, two years earlier**

The little house was not fancy, it had no frills nor finery, it was simply decorated and comfortable. When she rented it, it was defined as 'cozy', and she found herself agreeing. It was certainly a vast improvement over the Isla Del Aburrimiento and the pitiful shack she had inhabited there. She felt an odd sort of guilt in her habitation here, in the house provided by her father's annuity where she kept a maid and cook, and occasionally ventured into society. The pirate in her felt disgraced and frustrated by the coiled ropes of society that bound her to status.

She sat in the parlor, a bit of sewing in her hands, while her children's voices echoed from the play room above. Liam played pirates with as much enthusiasm as his parents ever had, and he frequently dragged his baby sister into his games. She was rarely another pirate herself, she had started as the 'booty' – which he so excitedly shouted whenever the 'other pirates', who were also portrayed by himself, stole her and hid her in some deep, dark cave, such as her cradle. In recent months however, he was beginning to hand her any convenient toy that he could declare a sword, and call her his first mate.

Abby took to the adventures with the same solemn determination she did everything else – she held the sword in both tiny hands and prepared to do battle with the imaginary 'bad pirates' who would inevitably attack. Elizabeth wondered if the child wasn't a changeling, if somewhere out there was a child of dark curls and khol-rimmed eyes plotting to steal the milk from the neighboring child's bed. But then Abigail looked at her, and Elizabeth saw Governor and Lady Swann in her eyes, the ones that she had clearly gotten from Elizabeth's own mother.

The maid knocked on the door softly, and Elizabeth jumped as she stepped inside, interrupting the reverie. "Visitor ma'am," the girl announced tentatively. At her mistress's nod, the girl pulled the door open all the way.

Elizabeth stood, placing her sewing on the cushion beside her to greet the woman standing at the door. She was a stranger, she wore the normal fashions of London but seemed out of place, her strong features and golden skin betrayed her exotic heritage, and the thick knot of shining black hair at the nape of the woman's neck was pinned with jewels that few would wear for such an occasion.

"Madame Turner," the woman nodded her head in a serene greeting, moving further into the room. Elizabeth felt suddenly that _this_ woman owned the room, she commanded it, could bend it to her will if she so chose. Her dark, almond-shaped eyes locked on Elizabeth's, making her feel rather awkward and quite young. "Do you know me?" There was a strange lilt to her voice as she spoke, a tinge of something warm and familiar mixed with a heavy French accent.

She shook her head, feeling as if she'd been struck quite dumb in the face of this creature. "I'm...afraid not," she replied after a few moment's pause. "Should I?"

The woman didn't respond, instead she moved about the room, examining Elizabeth's possessions with a bit more than idle curiosity. "Perhaps, I thought it was possible. There were portraits of me, il était une fois." She looked sharply back at her hostess. "Have you heard the name Vianne de Valois?"

Elizabeth nodded slowly. "Yes, I -" she took in a sharp breath. "Teague!" The name slid from her lips unbidden. "You're Mrs. Teague," she repeated after a moment. "Jack's mother."

"Oui," she stroked a conch shell the decorated the mantle with feigned disinterest. "You heard of me from Jean?" At Elizabeth's confused look she pursed her lips. "Jean Marcel de Valois. Mon petit Acarapi." She waited for recognition and received none. "John Teague," she finally said with a touch of bitterness. "You called him Jack."

Elizabeth started a bit, nodding stupidly. "Jack has all those names?" She imagined him suddenly, answering to Jean and couldn't help but smile a bit. "And...Acarbi?"

"Acarapi," Madame de Valois corrected. "The name my mother gave to him." She smiled suddenly, and Elizabeth was struck by how lovely she really was. "It means 'lucky'," she chuckled a bit. "Ma mère always was a bit more savoir...oh I forget the word...she could tell you things she could not know."

Elizabeth could only continue to nod, she had no precedence for this sort of an interview. 'Yes, I heard some things about you both from the husband you abandoned and your son, my former lover, while I awaited the return of my husband' no she certainly had nothing to add to this conversation. "Ah," she said finally, wishing she could force her mental capacities to find something _appropriate _to say.

Madame de Valois finally seemed to focus on Elizabeth. "Madame," she said firmly. "Do not think me unaware of your relationship with mon fils. Jean is my only living child, I have lost many to the sea. I wish to know my grandchild."

An earthquake shaking loose the foundations of London could not have shocked Elizabeth more than this statement. "Your...grandchild," she repeated slowly. "Madame, whatever you may have heard about my son, he is the child of my husband, Captain Turner."

"Oui, je sais. I of course meant la fille, Abigail Turner."

"Sparrow," Elizabeth corrected softly. "I keep her legally as Abigail Turner, for her own sake, but she is a Sparrow." She met the eyes of Madame de Valois, as if searching for something. She supposed she should feel a kinship with this woman, she would had experienced things so similar to Elizabeth's own life, but felt nothing similar to her own nature in the woman's dark, slanting eyes. "You truly want to see Abby?"

"Madame Turner," Vianne's eyes darkened. "I would not remain in a room with you, were it not for ma petite-fille. I have not sent word to Jean only because I know it will come in time, and you will suffer the consequences of your betrayals. I wish to meet my granddaughter. She must know the history of her family."

Elizabeth felt taken aback, but supposed she shouldn't. This woman had known of Abby when there was no way she could have, naturally she knew of the many ways in which Elizabeth had betrayed her son. She felt an odd pain in her chest as she wondered if the woman who was almost her mother-in-law was aware of the ultimate betrayal – that day at the mast of the _Pearl_. She nodded, resignedly. "Yes, of course."

By the time they reached the nursery, Vianne de Valois had changed drastically. Her eyes lit with an inner spark as she laid eyes on the wreckage that Elizabeth's children had wrought on their playroom. She stepped in, her intense stare matched perfectly by the pale eyes of her grandchild. Abby dropped the stick which was currently serving as cutlass, and approached the tall woman. Vianne knelt, holding her hands out. Words which Elizabeth could not quite hear, nor understand if she had, spilled from the Frenchwoman's lips.

Abby tilted her head and chewed her bottom lip. She looked up at her mother, and pulled on one of her long curls. At Elizabeth's faint nod, she moved toward the older woman. She allowed Madame de Valois to pull her into a gentle embrace, and didn't fuss when she was picked up. Her mother was rather shocked, the little girl tended to fear anyone unknown, and rarely allowed unexpected caresses. Whispered words were exchanged, and for several minutes they seemed lost in quiet conversation. She sat in a corner chair, holding Abby tight in her arms and turning her eyes to both Liam and Elizabeth in turn. Liam bounded over, feeling instantly the preparation for 'story time'. Elizabeth followed at a slower pace, eventually settling into a nearby rocking chair and pulling her son into her lap. Then all three pairs of eyes focused on the older woman.

"Mon père was Prince of France," she started slowly, allowing her words to pull her listeners closer. "Mon grandpère was the second son, his brother would become King. Mon père was his eldest son, le Duc de Valois, grandson of King Louis XIII." Liam let out a gasp, leaning closer to her with widening eyes. She stroked Abigail's hair softly, not taking her gaze from her granddaughter. "When he was still quite young, Père wished for adventure. He left the comfort of Paris for the wilderness of the Americas. It was there he found ma mere, Talise, an orphan they called the Mayan Princess. She had no friends nor family, but she had the spirits of the ancients within her, as all her family had before her, and she could not be lonely. However, when Père approached her, she fell in love with him and they were married. A year later, they had just one daughter," a small smile appeared on her face.

"You!" Liam exclaimed happily. Vianne lowered her eyes to his flushed face and nodded, an odd expression crossing her countenance.

"Oui, it was me. Ma mere raised me in the ways of her people, as best she could, in France. I was taught the ways of the priestesses and I learned to divine the future. In time I came to resent my life, I wished for freedom. When mon père's ship was attacked by pirates, I fell in love with the pirate captain, and he with me. We married, and I traveled the world with him. My son grew to be the Pirate Lord of the Caribbean, and eventually found himself a pirate woman he could bring with him on his ship."

Suddenly, Vianne set her granddaughter back to the floor and turned to Elizabeth. Her eyes were hard again, and she informed the younger woman in no uncertain terms that she would be remaining in her house for two weeks, and _could_ she see to arranging the rooms, thank you.

Madame de Valois was as good as her word, exactly two weeks later Elizabeth was summoned to the spare room she had arranged for the visitor, wherein Abby was curled up against her grandmother with tears in her large eyes. In her arms she clutched a worn cotton rabbit that had previously made its home in Vianne's valise, she referred to it only as Miurne and could not explain the name when pressed.

And so Vianne de Valois was buried in the local cemetery the next day, attended by the small Turner family and – inexplicably – Captain Teague.

There was no mystical bond between John Teague and the little girl who called him 'Granda', but he did seem to instinctively know how to approach her. When she hid behind her mother's skirts, he accepted the rebuff and proceeded to completely ignore her existence until she approached him.

That evening he returned to the little house Elizabeth loved and joined them for supper. If he grieved for his wife, he did not say such. He was the same calmly amused man he had been in Shipwreck Cove, and it warmed her heart to have such a dear companion about her home. He told stories of the sea, and shared exciting adventure tales with her impressionable young children that she wasn't entirely happy about, however, she realized as she stared at the man, cleaned up with his hair tied respectfully under a small black hat, that she was seeing what Jack Sparrow might become someday. He could never pass for a gentleman, but he looked the part of the worn sailor. He could pass for the respectable, elderly grandfather and she could almost imagine Jack beside him, playing the happy son and father. Her heart ached for a life unlived, and she was not sorry when Teague left them. She would miss him, but he had no more part in this world than his son had.

She knew somehow she would not see him again.

AN2: Philippe Charles, Duke of Valois was a real person, but in reality he died when he was still a baby. So this is in an imaginary world where he grew up and married a Mayan princess...


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**Aboard die _Süsse Liebe_, present...**

The little girl's eyes were wide and frightened, as she stared at her parents. A muffled whimper escaped between the fingers pressed firmly over her mouth, even as the dagger tip pressed dangerously against her throat.

"Ahh, Herr Richter," Jack stared directly into the too-bright eyes of the madman, moving slowly toward him. "Yes I suppose we will in fact begin the negotiations now," he adjusted a bit of lace tied about his wrist with idle disinterest. "But the question becomes...what do you want?" He smiled a bit. "I could arrange for whatever you want most to be in your possession."

Richter smiled slowly. "I believe I have what I want most, Jack Sparrow." He moved his hand from Abigail's mouth, stroking her cheek gently.

"Captain," Abby whispered. Jack looked at his little Peg with pride in his eyes. His little piratess who was not wailing nor crying. He was proud of her, and terrified for her.

Richter grabbed her long hair and pulled her head back. Tears slipped down her cheeks but she did not make a sound. "Yes, Captain," he agreed. "How careless. I have you, _Captain_ Jack Sparrow. And I will get to see your face as you watch them die, to see you feel as I felt when I knew what you had done to my sweet beauty and darling child."

"And who might that have been?" Jack's voice was deceptively calm. "Because no one who knew Claudia could refer to her as a sweet beauty. Furthermore I doubt any child with a drop of her blood in it would be considered a darling child, while we're discussing the topic." He tensed as Richter pulled on Abby's hair, forcing more tears down her dirty cheeks.

"Claudia was my life," Richter growled. "She was beautiful and kind. My son was innocent in your games and yet you killed him after you kidnapped my wife!"

Elizabeth gasped sharply. She locked her eyes on her former lover and saw him flinch. "Well, I'm sure it was an accident," she said tensely. "I think we all know that most of what Jack does is accidental, he survives by sheer luck."

Jack glared at her. "Hardly the time Mrs. Turner," he replied sharply. He turned his khol-lined eyes to his enemy, his fingers clenching uselessly at his side. "Whatever Claudia was or was not, she is now dead. Perhaps if you had not taken your time in research you would have found out exactly what happened aboard the _Wench_, and not jumped to conclusions. I was not aboard her when the powder blew, I was in fact in irons unable to do much of anything, aboard the ship that sank her. If you would like to blame someone, Cutler Beckett's corpse is somewheres off near Shipwreck Cove."

Richter stood, still holding both his dagger and Abigail in his arms. "You took her from me!" His voice rose angrily. "It does not matter who killed her!" His breathing became irregular and frenzied. "You deserve to suffer as I did!"

There was an odd rumble from below, and Richter looked utterly confused for a few moments. Jack took advantage of the distraction, reaching the captain and twisting the arm that held the dagger. It dropped to the floor, and he dropped Abby with it. Elizabeth darted forward, grabbing her daughter.

"Run!" Jack yelled at her, pushing Richter back against the desk.

She nodded, pulling her daughter to her chest and running out the door. She stopped when she reached the deck, shock overcoming her immediate desire for survival. The _Flying Dutchman_ was in the process of boarding _die Süsse Liebe_. "Will," she breathed. She turned her eyes to the _Pearl_, whose sailors had joined the fray the moment they realized who commanded the other ship. Elizabeth ran for the rail. "Mr. Gibbs!" She shouted over the din. Across the gap, the first mate looked up and met her eyes. He smiled when he spotted the child, then his eyes went wide. She spun around, instinctively putting herself between the unseen danger and her daughter. Before her stood Will Turner, and she threw her arms around her husband. "Will!"

He embraced her tightly in return, kissing the side of her head roughly. "Elizabeth!" He pulled away and turned, shouting to one of his crew. His words were snatched away by the wind and sounds of fight, but the man seemed to hear him and raced toward them. He ducked behind Elizabeth and grabbed Abigail, jumping across the break to the deck of the _Black Pearl_. He deposited the girl in Gibbs' arms and immediately turned and jumped back into the fray.

Elizabeth grabbed a sword that had fallen to the ground and threw herself into the fight – only to have her arm roughly grabbed by her husband. He kissed her firmly, holding her tight against him. "I love you," he whispered to her, and she found herself swept away by the tide of emotions he wrought in her. She had missed him more than she realized, her sweet, solid Will. He looked into her eyes and smiled, then turned and began to fight off one of the mercenaries who had been attempting to sneak up on him.

She saw Richter suddenly, across the deck and in a tense fight with Jack. She had to help, she couldn't let him – she raced across the deck, thanking all the gods in heaven she had changed into men's breeches before she left the _Pearl_. She could feel her heart pounding, blood rushing in her ears as she ducked through sailors and dodged blows of other men's swords.

She was nearly to Jack's side when she heard the roar of a gun, somewhere nearby. She stopped short and looked down, seeing a crimson red stain spreading across her white shirt. Richter stared at her over Jack's shoulder, his eyes full of laughter as he fought the younger captain. Jack hadn't seen her, nor heard the gunshot. She found herself falling, first to her knees and then face down on the deck. She was too tired to move, and rested her forehead against the cool, salty wetness of the wooden planks.

Jack was winning, he knew. He was certainly a better swordsman than this lout, who seemed altogether too happy about his current status as one losing a sword fight. In the experience of Captain Jack Sparrow, losing a sword fight was not generally the cause of much hilarity.

His sword sliced through flesh and he felt the rush of victory. Richter began to fall and Jack resisted the desire to dance on what would soon be his corpse. He held the man up against the mast, his forearm against the Austrian's throat. "I think we have both learned very important lessons through this," he said, his usual joviality back in his voice. "You have learned not to touch what is mine and I have learned to kill psychotic bastards when I have the chance."

"Jack wait," Will had appeared at his elbow and Jack sighed in irritation, turning to look at his old friend and sometime rival. He grabbed Richter's hair and forced him to meet his eyes, releasing him from Jack's hold. "Matthias Richter," he said quietly, leaning forward. "Do you fear death?" He waited a beat. "Do you fear the eternal judgment, all your sins laid before God?"

Richter nodded, suddenly looking worried. "Ja...ich," he nodded again.

"I could delay it," Will's voice became even softer as he leaned forward. "I could allow you to live another hundred years above the _Flying Dutchman_," he paused and suddenly there was a sword appearing through Richter's body, directly through his heart – if he had one. Jack stood behind and watched as he slid down the mast. "But I won't," he said after a moment, staring at the corpse.

Jack kicked the body gently a few times and then solidly a few more. He let it have one truly harsh kick before pulling his sword from the gaping wound in what had been his chest and turning back to the fight. It was dwindling now, the combined forces of the _Black Pearl _and the_ Flying Dutchman_ being too much for the Austrian pirates. The _Pearl_ was already working on a proper boarding.

He smiled then, imagining to himself how lovely it would be to watch this ship burn to the keel. He had burned his imaginary fore deck and was well on his way to the quarter deck when he spotted her. There was another man half draped over her, but it didn't hide the long curls freshly loosed from her braid, or the soft curves that he loved so well.

Jack Sparrow dropped every ounce of his flamboyant, giddy act as he fell to his knees beside his former lover. "Elizabeth!" He pulled the other pirate's groaning body off of her, sparing little mind even for one of his own crew. He pulled rolled her over and pulled open her shirt, his face contorting oddly as he stared at the clean hole through her chest. "Bess," he said softly.

Her eyes fluttered a bit and she looked up at her captain. "I..." her fingers attempted to block the blood still flowing from the wound, though what had once been a torrent was now a trickle. "I..."

"No Bess, no speaky," Jack began to look panicked, he darted his eyes across the deck. "Someone fetch Cotton and the medic box!" He shouted. Suddenly he felt something shove hard on his shoulder and someone was pushing themselves between him and his Eliza. 'Turner' he thought, unable to focus clearly on anything but how to help his girl.

Will held her blood-slicked hands tight in his. "Elizabeth listen, listen to me!" His voice was intense and she was clearly trying to make her eyes focus on his face. "Tell me you fear death," he whispered intently. "You can sail with me on the Dutchman, be part of the crew just tell me you fear it!"

Her head lolled drunkenly from side to side. "No...'m not...scared..." she pulled on of her hands free and reached for Jack. He grabbed her hand, dropping to her side again. "Her name...is Abby," Elizabeth's voice was getting weaker. "Don'...my baby...Peg..."

"I'll call her what I want to," Jack replied harshly. "If you want her called Abby you have to live to call her that, savvy? Bess? Bess!" Her eyes had drifted closed, but at his shaking she looked up at them.

"Please Elizabeth," Will's voice broke. "I can save you if you just say it." She didn't seem to see him anymore...her eyes had focused across the deck.

"Don' fall..." Jack followed her gaze and saw Abigail crawling on hands and knees between die _Süsse Liebe_ and the _Pearl_. She hopped to the deck and began running toward them.

"Stay back Peg!" Jack's voice was raw and hoarse, but he couldn't make himself move from Elizabeth's side to stop the child from seeing.

"No...Elizabeth!" Will was frantic now, shaking her roughly and calling her name. Jack slowly looked back at the two and saw his lady love staring, unseeing, at the stars.

"Lizzie."

Jack's broken whisper went unanswered.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**Aboard die _Süsse_ _Liebe_, present...**

The little girl dodged pirates, the living, dead and undead alike. Under her chubby arms she had clutched a familiar doll, and she felt herself sobbing for her mother.

Strong arms caught her as she neared, and her father's face looked down at her.

"No love," he pulled her close. "No point there."

She wriggled as Jack tried to hold her in his arms, but failed. The look on her face was breaking his heart, she'd not had time to reconcile herself with finding her mother before...he couldn't think the words, to think his Bess was gone. He refused to give the thought power over him.

He watched as the small girl crept closer. She was whispering to that damn rabbit again, he noticed with a sudden surge of absolutely irrational anger. The stupid thing was useless, WHY was she always talking to it instead of someone helpful?

He would eat his words a moment later, when Abigail placed the rabbit over Elizabeth's heart and wrapped her mother's arms about it. More specifically, he would eat his words when the rabbit melted away, and a bright light appeared instead.

Of all the things that Jack may or may not have been expecting of his daughter's stuffed rabbit, seeing it generate a well-lit fog over what he refused to accept was the lifeless body of Elizabeth Turner did not reach anywhere close to the top ten.

He also did not expect at that very moment a semi-incorporeal Vianne de Valois to appear kneeling beside her, and smoothing the hair of his only child.

"Mère?" He cocked his head, his current denial allowed him to react a bit better to this situation than he normally would. "Well...this is an unexpected treat. Did I forget your birthday?"

The apparition was dressed as truly Mayan as she claimed her blood was. Loose-fitting skirt and drapes of fabric, and shining black hair left unbound to her waist. "Jacques," her voice was soft, her eyes fell on him with intensity. "My dear boy," she reached out and stroked his cheek. She smiled sweetly and turned back to face Abigail. The spirit touched her granddaughter's hair gently. "Abigail," she whispered. The little girl looked up at her, tears running tracks down her grubby cheeks. "Yes, I can, are you sure? I cannot interfere again."

Abby pulled away, curling up on the ground next to her mother. She put her hands over her destroyed chest, mimicking her father's earlier attempts to stop the blood. "Momma..." her voice cracked. "Please wake up." She looked up and over at her grandmére. "Miurne, please?"

"Oui, chéri, non, don't cry." the spirit moved her hands. "I will, oui, I will."

Jack stared at them, blank shock in his eyes. "This is Miurne? _You_ are Miurne?"

His mother looked at him with disdain. "Petit Jacques, you never paid attention when I attempted to teach you the language of my people. Do not become tiresome now, because you do not know it. Miurne means _grandmére_." She turned away from her son with a sniff, kneeling over Elizabeth's body with a determined air. She stared for a long moment, and there was a grand flash that froze all the men in their tracks. A waft of smoke floated above them all, perfumed of some unnaturally sweet flower.

Vianne's spirit moved back to her son. She tugged his beard to make him look at her, and met his deep chocolate eyes with her own. "Chéri," she said softly. "Mon petit Acarapi. Remember always, how your mére loved you. Tell your father I await him comfortably...savvy?" The bit of pirate slang made him smile and he felt cold as she leaned in to kiss his cheek. "I will tell Claudia and Henri you love them," she whispered, and faded away with the mist about Elizabeth's body.

Which they noticed as the mist lifted, was no longer where they'd left it.

Had they known the exact measure of the magic which had been wrought, they would have a much better explanation for this – as it was, Will grabbed Abigail's shoulders and stared into her small face.

"Where has she gone?!" He demanded fiercely. "What has -" he didn't want to say 'what has your stuffed bunny done with her' but he couldn't think of quite another way to say it. "Where has she gone?!" he settled on repeating.

"There's a bit of a trick to that," a feminine voice replied loftily. "It was all quite mystical actually." Everyone turned and stared at the figure by the rails, her arms looped about a rope from the _Pearl_. It was not the woman who had lain before them moments ago. Well, at least not attired the same. This particular woman looked a good deal more like the Pirate Lord of Singapore, complete with odd, pointy hat.

There was a chorus of shocked cries; all her various names represented by those who loved her, particularly a wail of 'momma' before she found herself with an armful of five-year-old girl. She wrapped her arms around the child and held her as close as she could. She rested her cheek on the girl's soft curls and breathed deep. "Abbygirl," she said softly. "My little Abby."

The girl's chubby arms are tightly around her mother's neck and she didn't let go as they approach the pirates. Elizabeth smiled rather sadly. As she reached Mr. Gibbs she unlatched Abigail's hold on her and whispered a few soft words in her ear, before handing her to the aging pirate. She smileed at him, then turned her eyes to Will. Before she could move far he had pulled her into his arms, and for a moment she closed her eyes.

'_Willwillwillwillwill,_' she felt his name in her rapid heartbeat, she smelled the salt sea and smoke about him – even after ten years on the ocean he will always smell of the smithy to her. "Oh Will," she said his name quietly, against his chest. "Will Turner I have missed you," her voice was soft and breathy.

He tilted her chin up and kissed her. For half a heartbeat she kissed him back, but then she pulled away. She saw the hurt bloom in his eyes, as well as the horrible knowledge of her reasons.

"He wasn't a second choice was he?" Will's voice was strained and rough in her ears and she hated to hear the pain in it.

"No," the reply is near inaudible. She looked up at him, and he could almost pretend that the love he saw shining in her eyes is all for him. "Will, I will always, always love you."

He curled a loose strand of her hair around his large, coarse finger and nodded slowly. "Aye...but that's not enough is is Elizabeth?" He smiled sadly, and her heart ached for him. "We're not alike at all...never have been. You were meant to be a pirate Elizabeth Swann."

She hugged him then, a tightly as she could. "You are the best man I've ever known Will Turner."

He kissed the top of her head and pretended for the last time that that is enough for him. She met his eyes again and he smiled, this time the bitterness in his eyes is less. "Make sure the heart is well buried," he asked softly. She nodded. "Liam is at your aunt's in London. Make sure...I want word of where he is, when my day is up. I'd like to spend it with him, and you regardless..."

"Of course," she pressed her face to his chest again, holding him tightly against the break they both feel coming between. "I will always be there Will, on our island. Waiting for that day. I promise."

"No promises anymore darling," he pushed her hair back under her hat. "But remember if you need me, just...half-kill Jack or something and I'll hurry over." She laughed against him, and with one last embrace her let her go. He smiled at her and followed the curve of her cheek with his rough thumb. "Make sure he's careful of you...and apologize for my roughness, to Abigail. I was a bit tense," he leaned forward and touched her cheek. "Elizabeth Swann," he whispered, reminiscent of long-past voice and long-forgotten phrase. "I release you from your marriage vows." When she opened her eyes, he was gone and the _Dutchman_ had vanished from sight, sinking into the ocean like the sea monster it had once been.

A sigh escaped her, whether it is for the man on the other ship or the life she had never led, even she wasn't sure. She woke suddenly from her stupor and looked around her sharply. The crew of the _Pearl_ had dispersed sometime during the conversation between she and Will, along with it's wily captain and his daughter.

She looked confused for a moment, but a moment later knew exactly what had happened. "Bloody pirates," she snorted to herself, stomping across the deck toward the _Black Pearl_. A few moments and a talented swing on a rope later, she landed aboard the _Pearl_ and allowed her heavy boots to make as much noise as possible as she approached the captain's cabin.

Jack did not turn to face her when she entered.

"Hello Mrs. Turner," his voice was entirely disinterested. "Thought you'd be well aboard the _Dutchman _by now. If you'd rather I drop you off on your island I can do that as well. Peg will be sailing aboard the _Pearl_ for a bit more. She's down in the galley if you want to say goodbye."

"Jack," she didn't move from the door, unsure of how to proceed. "The _Dutchman_ is gone. Will is gone."

"Ah, the grieving missus again are we?" He still refused to look at her. "Going to wait tragically on your widow's talk?"

"I will be waiting for him in eight months, if that's what you're asking," she replied firmly, beginning to get annoyed. "Jack, will you stop being stupid? Why did you leave die _Süsse Liebe_?" She shut the door and moved a bit farther into the room.

He turned on her then, his eyes flashing dark. "I didn't particularly care to witness your touching reunion with Captain Turner, my _liege_." His voice fairly dripped with sarcasm. "Of course, as _Pirate King_ you have the right to be aboard my ship but please be aware I will be dropping your sorry hide on the next inhabited island I come across."

"Sorry hide?" Her voice rose shrilly. "If that's how you'll be about it Jack Sparrow perhaps I'll simply take Richter's ship as my own and not inconvenience you any further!" She stepped a bit toward him, her eyes darkening with anger. "But if you have even the vaguest notion that you'll take my daughter from me believe me you are entirely mistaken, _Captain_."

His voice lowered dangerously. "Well it's my ship innit? Captained by meself, run by me own crew. Which of us you think has better chance of holdin' onto the lass?"

"Will would come back if I called him," she growled. "Even if we've ended it, we're still friends Jack. He is capable of handling rejection with gentlemanly behavior!"

Jack paused, obsideon eyes scanning her face to any trace of deception. "Ended?"

"Aye." She pursed her lips angrily. "We parted on _friendly_ terms." She held out her hand rigidly, even as Jack began to move toward her. "Which is not to say I'll be staying about _this_ ship after the way you've behaved today Jack Sparrow! I'm quite tempted to settle on the island for a few months before returning to London and being done to hell with the both of you!"

"Lizzie..."

"Don't start," she turned away, pulling open the door angrily. She stopped just in the door. "You didn't wonder where I reappeared Jack?" she didn't see the expression on his face, but she could imagine it. "Your mum said the magic placed me in the location where I felt safest in all the world, someplace I knew nothing could hurt me." She paused and glanced over her shoulder. "It dropped me right on that bunk over there."

He looked at where her eyes led and saw his own rather uncomfortable bed.

That comment seemed the last straw for him. He crossed the room in two long strides and pulled her in, shutting the door behind her. She was pinned between him and the only exit. A few hours ago she would have panicked, but there is certainly something to be said for dying to free one of one's fears.

He leaned over her, his eyes tracing every curve of her face. "What do you want Elizabeth Swann?" His breath was hot in her ear, she closed her eyes and let herself lean into him. "Or is it Turner?"

She opened her eyes again, meeting his. She wishes she could truly tell him the things she felt – that they had a relationship where honesty led to anything but pain. "It's not Turner anymore," she responds after a moment. "Will...released me. Entirely."

"Aye, and then? What do you want Lizzie?"

She looks past him, to a map on the wall of his cabin. "I want the world Jack. I want the world and everything in it."

He grins and suddenly she has kissed him or he has kissed her, neither knows nor cares. He pulls her closer and whispers against her lips one word...

"Pirate."


	11. Epilogue

AN: Thank you guys so much for all your comments! For everyone that complained that Will was being too assholey to Abby - well I hope you feel he's been redeemed :-)**  
**

The sequel is in the works, so keep a weather eye on the horizon...

**Epilogue**

**Isla Del Aburrimiento, ten months later**

The little cottage is modest, but clean and well kept. The crew had tactfully torn down her shack and begun from scratch when they built the small home. There is very little in it, just two rooms and a small open bit between them that she enjoys calling a foyer. There is a long divan in one room, where she theorizes that a guest could perhaps sleep on, should one ever appear, and a large bed in the other room. There are many cushions, some taken from plunder, some purchased at the island across the way and some made herself, as well as two straw ticks that are kept on the well-swept floor for the children. In the day they are shaken out and tucked away, only to be pulled out again at night. Many nights they don't bother, both children curl up in the big bed on either side of Momma. Though when Uncle Jack is there, the beds are neatly arranged for them in the other room long before bedtime comes.

Liam knows exactly – or as exactly as a nine year old boy can know – what goes on between Uncle Jack and his mother. He tries not to resent him, knowing that his mother hums now, even when he's gone. She is happy, and smiles in a way that reaches her eyes. But his dreams of Father coming home are dashed by this unfettered joy, and he can't help but resent it.

No one likes having their dreams crushed, after all.

When The Day comes, Uncle Jack has been by the house and gone again. Peggy – as Liam had taken to calling her, much to his mother's ire – had gone with him. "Just a bit of adventure," he'd promised, swearing to be back in a week's time. He had swung the small form of Liam's tiny sister onto his shoulders and she had gleefully begun using his dreadlocks as reigns.

It is Peggy who has made him accept Jack, finally. She smiles now, so much more than she had even before Mother was kidnapped. She laughs, though it is still less than most, and runs like other girls and boys her age. He never knows what made her so sad before, but it has lifted from her shoulders and thus from his. He feels freer now, unfettered by the weight of his unhappy family. He supposes he should thank Jack for it, but he believes that that is far beyond what one can expect from any boy of nine and one-quarter.

It is just he and Mother who stand atop the highest peak of their little island, and they watch anxiously a familiar ship. The flash of green announces an arrival, and his face lights up. It has been almost a year since he spent those few weeks aboard his father's ship, and naturally he is anxious to see him again.

Mother doesn't know that Father promised to take him aboard the _Dutchman _for a bit of adventure, and he is certain that there is no reason to tell her until the time is right.

Or better yet...he think he will let Father tell her. After all, he is only nine and one quarter, and she is a very...strong Mother.

**Aboard the _Black Pearl_...**

She still clutches that damned rabbit like it holds the meaning of life. It irritates him now, knowing exactly what kind of stories the thing has been telling her. It irritates him as well because he can't get anything out of it – he does not admit that he has tried, because Pirate Lords do not hold conversations with stuffed rabbits, possessed by their mothers or no.

The doll had been silent for weeks after their adventure, and the cries he had heard from his daughter had wrenched his heart. He well understood wanting the company of that particular lady, he'd spent most of his childhood and young adult life attempting to win her approval and attention – but she'd spent most of her time trying to win the same from John Teague, trying to remind the old blackguard that he had stolen her from her French nobility for a reason, which was certainly not to ignore her in favor of Tortugan floozies.

Jack had hated his father for many years, because of that – it never occurred to him that the man had hated himself for the same reason.

Regardless of those facts, Abigail is glad to have the whispered protection of the spirits about her, which, incidentally, also pleases Jack quite thoroughly. It makes it a bit easier to have her with him, knowing exactly who is guarding her.

He frequently comes in late from his watches, and she is always sitting up in the corner of his bunk, waiting for him. She doesn't sleep well without company, and he knows she still has nightmares with him beside her. It wreaks havoc with his heart, to see her in pain. He tells her stories, when she wakes up sobbing and clutching Miurne; she doesn't like the stories of piracy however, and he is forced to think up stories of beautiful princesses and brave knights – none of whom, his Bess had firmly told him, were to be eunuchs. If the brave princess usually saves herself and rides off into the night with a rough-and-tumble scoundrel instead of her dashing hero, well it is a good lesson for his girl to learn anyway.

He never admits it to anyone, not even his Bess, but he nearly cries the first time Peg curls up in his lap and calls him Papa. He just hugs her to him and feels the bit of his spirit that had still been declaring itself utterly free give in – he is owned now, body and soul, by a bit of grey eyes and curling hair.

She still follows him about the ship, like a lost pup with no mother. He gave her a job on the ship, and now she carries his 'effects' around with an air of a soldier on an important duty. Once he let her open his compass, and he'd laughed when the damn thing pointed directly at Miurne.

Tomorrow they will return to the little house on the hill, where they will claim their bonny lass and set sail for adventures unknown. She will carry his effects with self-important airs, and he will protect her little heart as long as his keeps beating.

He supposes it's the Teague in him.

**Isla del Aburrimiento**

She has almost forgotten that night of rum and bonfire, until she hears the soft humming under the breath of her son. Her mind flashes to another place and time, and she can't help but smile. She knows exactly who taught the tune to her boy, and can't repress the pleasure knowing that he has impressed the child, even if he isn't exactly accepted yet.

When they meet the longboat down below, she allows herself to remember a time of innocence and laughter, when pirates were fairy tales and ghost stories were naught but legends. She is in the arms of her best friend, and for a few hours will pretend she lives a different life. A life of lace and satin, and the warmth of a smithy, where the only sword fights are pretend, and the biggest daily worry is if Father will be home for supper. For a few hours it will be true, and they will all imagine that life has always been such – will always be such. There will be no softly beating heart under the flowers in the back garden, and no cursed ships awaiting on the horizon. They will be a small, happy family, for a day.

She was always very fond of make-believe.

(and here's a sneak preview of the next bit!)

**London, England**

She closed the large, hand-written book with a wistful smile. In the dim lamplight, her little girl's eyes were wide open and she stared at her mother. She never slept when there was a pirate story to be told.

"And then?" The little girl begged for more detail. "Was he caught? He got away didn't he Mother?"

"Yes," the word came softly as she tucked the blanket under her daughter's chin. "Of course he did darling. No one could ever capture the infamous -"

"Captain John Teague!" The name slipped from her lips, excitedly. "Please tell me another, I promise I'll go to bed after."

"Not tonight dear heart, tomorrow." She picked up the lamp and stood over the bed, eyes filled with an emotion that the girl would never understand.

"Please Mother, just one more. About Jack Sparrow!"

Her lips pursed in amusement, and she nodded. She set the lamp down upon the dresser again and picked up her book. "Captain Jack Sparrow darling," she corrected gently. "Now let's see...it was early June, and a hot summer evening...Nassau Port is usually quite heavily guarded, but that day there was a skirmish with the Spanish, and many of the soldiers had been called away..."

The little girl listened with rapt eyes and open ears, drinking in the adventures with an unending enthusiasm. She loved these stories.

She always remembered, in later years, the exact way her mother's eyes looked as she turned down the lamp, and the soft swish of her skirts as she left and the gentleness in her voice as she whispered "goodnight Beth". It was not because the stories excited her so...no, it was because it would be the last time she ever saw Victoria Swann.

And as the moonlit shadows grew long across the richly furnished home, a pale-haired woman packed a bag, and stole away into the night.

In the morning, Weatherby Swann found two letters, one addressed to him and one to his daughter. He stared, dry-eyed as the second curled to black ash in his fireplace, and went downstairs to tell the little girl that her mother had died in the night.


End file.
